Boom! Headshot
by Starsurfer108
Summary: Dredd's assigned to another rookie, and sees a bit of himself in him. Doesn't mean he'll go easy, though.


Dredd awoke, room spinning even though he was lying on a bed, unmoving. He instantly recognised the almost blinding white walls of the medic centre, complete with familiar beeps of the life support system. His recall was a bit hazy, but a tender spot under his chin confirmed that he had indeed taken a bullet.

A melodic chime went off; the machine recognising his return to consciousness.

Dredd glanced around the room. To his surprise, there was a young male cadet sitting on the other side of the room. He was in the Judge's off-duty blue uniform with a new type of helmet – blue to match the clothes, complete with dark visor. Both of them looked up as a nurse entered.

"Good to have you back, Judge," she said, smiling. "The bullet went in deep in your head, but we were able to repair it quickly. You're fit for active duty immediately as you've received all the medical treatment we can give. Of course, if you notice any anomalies, please let us know."

Dredd gave a nod.

When the nurse left, the cadet rose, formally standing at attention.

"At ease, rookie."

The cadet smirked. It churned Dredd's stomach to see such a rapid change to an informal presentation. A Judge should remain in control at all times, even off-duty; there was no room for emotional outbursts on the harsh streets.

"Here are my orders, Sir," the rookie said, handing Dredd a holographic paper with Central's seal on it.

"Very well. I'll meet you round front in ten minutes in full gear."

"Yes, Sir." The rookie paused at the door. "Don't you want to know my name, Sir?" he asked curiously.

"I don't need it, rookie. I'll find out at the end of the day… if you survive." If the boy was expressing some emotional need regarding the desire to be called by his name, he definitely needed to toughen up. Some prodding should help weed that out. But there was something else – it seemed that the rookie wasn't revealing everything about himself, that he still had a veneer in spite of his relaxed attitude, that he was testing Dredd as much as Dredd was testing him. From instinct, there was something about the boy that reminded him of himself in his early days, which hopefully was a good thing.

-0-

Dredd's lawmaster screeched to a halt at the front of the building. He looked at the boy, unimpressed.

"You're still in your blue suit, rookie. Not fit for a gun battle."

"Yes, Sir. I'm a new class. A scout. The lack of armor will aid me in speed and reconnaissance. They said I'd be good for you."

Dredd gritted his teeth at the affront to his skills, even though, realistically, he had his limits. The bullet to the head could've killed him had he not reacted to minimise the damage, and he knew that others would have also found themselves in a tight pinch, unable to get out unscathed. But orders were orders and needed to be followed, regardless of the gossip in the Justice Department which accompanied them. And it was good for the justice system to experiment with ways of getting the upper hand. As usual, Dredd put the greater good before any crap aimed at himself.

"Well, you'd better ride behind me then, _scout_."

"Yes, Sir."

Seeing as he was the only one wearing a comm, Dredd picked the next target.

"Dredd to control. We'll take hostage situation at Sternhammer."

There was a slight pause, the comm crackling in the silence._ "Affirmative."_

-0-

They met up with the medico in charge of the building.

"A Futsie – future shock. He snapped. Not enough work to do. Took about 10 hostage. He's pretending to be an employee, and if he isn't given an unreasonable amount of tasks by the hostages, he shoots them. We've lost two already." The medico pulled up the man's picture and the schematics of the room. Dredd took some solace that the medic attended more to him than the boy; the medic obviously could tell who had the stronger presence, who was the more experienced. And experience did count in this business, not just quick reflexes and rote learning.

Dredd turned his head and addressed the boy, who was standing on the far side of the medico. "How do you suggest we approach this?"

The medico raised his eyebrow. "How about you go in guns blazing, and I stay here and mind my pretty little ass."

The rookie nodded his assent, almost amused that the medic answered before he got a chance. Dredd wasn't pleased. It wasn't how one was supposed to behave, especially on assessment.

-0-

"Well? Are you going to make yourself useful or am I going to have to do all the work?"

"How about a combination?" the rookie replied, pressing a button on his outfit which caused partial invisibility. When the boy moved slowly, he was almost undetectable.

Dredd was fuming at the lack of propriety. If the boy didn't show some remarkable skill, it was a straight fail. Or straight to the cubes, if it got bad to the point where he'd endanger others' lives.

The boy returned. "The perp is at the main desk in the front, and the hostages are seated on those chairs at the side. They come to him one by one."

"That's exactly what I was thinking," replied Dredd through gritted teeth. I guess the boy could be useful, _in_ _theory_ – when the answers weren't blindingly obvious.

They got closer, and could now hear inside.

A man was screaming. "Not enough work! I can easily get this done! You're fired as my boss!"

Knowing this was a sign of another execution, Dredd rushed in.

"Stun!" he yelled, and shot the perp just before he was able to punish one of his 'bosses'. The perp fell over, groaning, gun falling from his hand.

"Have you ever considered being a Judge if you wanted an unrealistic challenge?" the rookie asked him, smirking.

The guy didn't respond, still spasming.

The rookie came close to Dredd. "Sir, I believe this crime could have warranted the use of lethal force."

"Suddenly all proper, are we?" Dredd muttered, making an issue of his prior casual behaviour. He talked in a softer voice as usual, not wanting the hostages to hear their disagreement. "Why don't you make yourself useful and cuff him?"

He brushed past the boy, attending to the hostages. They all looked on edge, but other than that, seemed fine. "All of you can leave." They all exited the room hastily.

He turned around and spoke into his comm. "Dredd to control. Request meatwagon to Sternhammer level 35. One for the cubes, and two for Resyk."

The boy was staring at Dredd, unperturbed. If it was something that irritated Dredd more, it was someone challenging his authority, forcing Dredd to have to convince people to listen to his expertise.

"If you have something to say, say it," he said hotly.

"Sir, you're being too lenient."

"He's suffering from future shock. Yes, I could have exercised my discretion and shot him, but he deserves treatment."

"You're crazy!" said the perp, still on the ground.

Dredd was convinced that the guy wasn't in his right mind, complaining about leniency. Further proof that he had made the right decision.

In his peripheral vision, he could see the perp rise, aiming his gun at him. Damn, could the boy not even cuff someone properly? The rookie saw the movement and leapt in front of Dredd, taking the impact. Dredd could feel the bullet hit his armor. That wasn't good.

"Stun!"

The perp was now unconscious, having taken two stun bullets in close proximity to each other.

There was a sickening hiss in time with the boy's breathing, the bullet having pierced a lung.

"Dredd to control. Code 1, to my GPS."

_"Affirmative. Judge in need of medical assistance. Medics en route."_

Dredd tried to prop the boy's head up slightly with a folded towel. The boy was pale, breath raspy. It didn't look hopeful.

Dredd sighed. "You show spirit, rookie. It takes guts to put yourself on the line without delay. Hang in there. You passed."

A small smirk appeared. "You shouldn't say that. I didn't contain the situation. I failed."

"It's not a perfect world, kid. You sound like myself when I was younger. Listen to my advice; overall we need to be strict, but we need to follow the spirit of the Law first and foremost. It's not a perfect system, and we need to be flexible as the situation demands."

"That attitude leads to corruption."

"We're corrupt if we don't make exceptions when Justice requires it. The system is there to serve the people, not the other way around."

"You should have executed him when he tried to kill us. I might not make it. My sacrifice would be meaningful if it made a difference."

"Easy, rookie. The law states that we should execute anyone attempting to murder a Judge, but also allows leniency in the case of mental issues. If you sacrificed your life, do you want it to be to kill someone or to help them?"

The boy's mouth relaxed, and he gave a slight nod.

"What's your name?" Dredd asked gently, removing the boy's helmet. To his surprise, the boy was an exact replica of himself when he was younger. Another clone?

A small smile appeared on the boy's face. "Joseph Dredd," he said, eyes glistening with meaning. Dredd nodded, accepting the compliment, and watched as the boy's eyes lost focus and his breathing stilled.

"Dredd!" came a woman's voice. To his surprise, Dredd looked at the door to see Anderson. He stood up. There was nothing more to be done for the boy.

"I heard the call for a Judge needing assistance, and thought I could help. It doesn't look too bad," she said, surveying Dredd's small wound. The armor had absorbed most of the impact.

"It wasn't for me," he said, waving his hand in the direction behind him. "He blocked a bullet. Went straight through him and got me."

Anderson looked at the perp, confused. "Who, him?"

"No, the rookie." Dredd pointed to the lifeless body. Anderson wandered over, actually stepping through the boy. As soon as that happened, Dredd felt nauseated and fell to the ground.

Anderson rushed over and propped him against the wall.

"Dredd," said Anderson, concerned. "Will you allow me to analyse you?"

Dredd nodded, still reeling.

Anderson placed her hands on his neck. "Your psyche has been split. Do you know how this could have happened?"

"I took a bullet to the brain. Guess that interfered with my thinking ability."

Anderson smirked at the familiar phrasing. "May I fix this?"

Dredd nodded. He convulsed and lost consciousness as the parts of his brain were reconnected.

-0-

Dredd coughed as he came to. He was still in the room, lying on his side. Anderson was seated nearby. He didn't know what she did, but he did actually feel better and knew she fixed the problem.

He sat up. "Thanks, Anderson. I was thinking it was about time I got my head examined."

She chuckled. "Anytime, Dredd."

They rode the elevator down in silence. Dredd looked lost in thought, absorbed in the meaning of the prior interactions.

"Everything OK?" she asked.

"I think I might be getting emotional in my old age."

Anderson laughed her ass off for the rest of the elevator ride at the ridiculous statement. She knew very well that Dredd's standards were completely off the scale compared to anyone else's.

Her reaction made Dredd feel better about himself, and he put his fears to rest.

END

A/N: Thought it would be interesting for Dredd to argue with his younger self. I do find it interesting to see what makes Dredd tick, considering he always presents himself in a formal way to the point where his internal experience isn't obvious to others.

I haven't read all the comics, but the author said that Dredd has shifted slightly as he gets older to the point where he actually has questioned the system. When younger, he'd blindly believe in it, more or less.

When Dredd was 'split', I tried to convey that he was slightly more emotional – getting irritated at the gossip in the department about his waning abilities, and the lack of propriety from the 'rookie'. Dredd still responded in a proper way, but in my mind, it was getting to him more than usual. I wanted the older, wiser part of Dredd to be the more emotional one. Versus the younger, eager, rigid, by-the-book version of himself.

Regarding the "did you want to kill someone or to help them?" – that is in a story about a kind-hearted Prince (who later became the saint known as Buddha). A bird was shot with an arrow by his brothers, and the Prince picked up the bird, and tended to its wounds. The brothers demanded he give the bird to them. Some elders were passing by, so the Prince asked them to decide who owned the bird. They said that it was a higher calling to help rather than to kill, so the bird belonged to the Prince. I love that story so much!

Considering that the rookie was visible only to Dredd, if anyone re-reads this, I tried to make it humourous and put little clues here and there.

Fight club, anyone? 8D


End file.
